Page 22 of When I Fall in Love (De Piaget #4)

I t wasn’t often that events were just so remarkable that one needed to stop and admire them for their sheer weirdness. Jennifer decided that such was the case at the moment, given that she was standing on the beach in a medieval gown, crossing swords with a man who could have cut her to ribbons with both hands tied behind his back, and neither seemed out of the ordinary. She held up her hand to ward him off.

“Wait,” she said with a half laugh. “Give me a minute.”

Nicholas propped his sword up on his shoulder like a rifle. “Tired?”

She didn’t have the energy to put her borrowed sword up on her shoulder in that cool, medieval way, so she jammed it into the sand and used it to lean on. “Very. And trying to do this in a dress is impossible.”

He tried without success to suppress his smile. “I won’t remind you that I suggested you filch Montgomery’s clothes again”

“If I’d worn those, I couldn’t have walked barefooted in the sand.”

“Most knights would consider that an inducement to wear boots.”

“Fortunately I am not a knight,” she said, using her sleeve to wipe her forehead, “and I like sand between my toes.” She looked at him. “This is hard.”

“Did you expect anything else?”

“Not really,” she said with a smile.

“You have trained some yourself, though, haven’t you?”

“A little,” she admitted. And she had—two years of fencing, just so Victoria would have someone to practice with. “But it was nothing like this.”

“Are you calling for a retreat to camp?”

“Definitely.”

He took her sword from her and resheathed his own. Jennifer walked with him back to the blanket spread out on the sand. He cast himself down on it, supremely comfortable and seemingly not at all concerned about his future.

Would that she could say the same thing.

She sat down on the other side of the picnic hamper and turned to look out over the ocean. It was so beautiful and soothing that she found it difficult not to let the peace of it lull her into forgetting the reality of her situation, a reality that she simply couldn’t ignore anymore.

She had pushed her concerns aside the day before, in deference to Nicholas’s wishes. But going through the village, as interesting as it had been, had been a stark, unyielding reminder of what lay in store for her.

She sighed and dragged her hand through her loose hair. It was time for another bath. Another one or two before she faced her future as an ordinary medieval gal.

“Jenner?”

She closed her eyes briefly. Why did he have to call her that? He’d done it a time or two the day before. It was almost as if he knew her, liked her, thought of her as family. She turned her head to look at him. She attempted a smile, but thought it might not have been very successful. “Yes, my lord?”

“I fear you’re thinking,” he said, clucking his tongue.

“A horrible habit,” she said.

“It is. Have some wine.”

She accepted a goblet, then watched him as he made himself at home in the picnic hamper Artane’s cook had packed for them. It was full of simply delightful things: pasties, dried meat, fresh greens, very nice bread. She had stood in the kitchen and watched Nicholas charm the man without an effort. Mr. Glum had apparently left the building for good. In his place was the sunny, chivalrous knight whose smile brought men and women both to heel without complaint.

And why not? He was just as kind to the servants as he was to his brothers. The peasant women yesterday had spoken of him in glowing terms. His father’s guardsmen were cheerfully deferential. His brothers simply worshipped him. It was almost enough to make her forget that she shouldn’t be doing the same.

“Bread?”

She didn’t think she could get it down. She shook her head. “I’m fine, thank you.”

“You look far too serious for such a lovely day,” he remarked quietly.

She turned to look at him fully. It was a little difficult through the tears that seemed to have suddenly taken up residence in her eyes.

She had to talk to him. She had to at least tell him the truth about where— when she’d come from. He would find out eventually and when he found out, he would ditch her. There was absolutely no point in not getting it over with now.

As it was, she was living a lie. Unfortunately, it was such a delicious lie, so beautiful and sparkling and perfect—

“You know,” Nicholas began slowly, “you begin to make me doubt my ability to please a maid.”

“Nicholas,” she said, “we have to talk.”

He looked into the basket and spoke as if he hadn’t heard her. “Let us eat now,” he said, “then perhaps we’ll train a bit more.”

“Nicholas—”

“After that perhaps an afternoon of leisure. I’ll play the lute for you—”

She jumped to her feet and walked away while she still could. She started to run. She tripped and went down on her knees.

Strong hands took her by the arms and pulled her back up to her feet. “Jennifer, please.”

She didn’t want to cry. Somehow, she just couldn’t help herself.

“You promised me a fortnight,” he said, dabbing at her eyes with the hem of his sleeve.

“Nicholas, I have things I have to tell you.”

“Tell me later,” he said. “For now, let us be merry, let us forget the world beyond Artane’s reach, let us be at peace—”

“I can’t,” she said miserably. “If you knew the truth about me, you’d want to burn me at the stake just like Ledenham. I am not going to spend all this time with you, fall in love with you, never want to leave you just to have you dump me—or worse.”

“Dump you?” he echoed.

“Yes, dump me,” she repeated in irritation. “It means to cast someone aside without a backward glance. Trust me, when you find out my secret, you’ll want to do that.” She backed away. “You will.”

She turned and ran before she had to see the look in his eye. It wasn’t a pretty run, but she was past caring. She couldn’t go on any longer. Every moment she spent with him was torture, torture because she knew that it wouldn’t last. It couldn’t last.

And if she fell any more in love with him than she was already, it would kill her.

She ran until she got a stitch in her side, then she walked. She kept her skirts up out of the waves and continued on so long that she passed Artane on her right and left it behind her. And when she had walked herself out, she simply stopped, turned toward the sea and stared out over it. Tears ran down her cheeks and she let them. She was past wiping them away.

She stood there for a very long time.

After a while, she realized that she wasn’t alone.

She turned around. Nicholas was standing ten feet away from her, watching her gravely.

“Are you still here?” she asked, dragging her sleeve across her eyes angrily.

Nicholas looked at her for a moment or two in silence. Then he took three strides forward and pulled her into his arms. He slid an arm around her waist, a hand under her hair, then looked down at her.

And then he bent his head and kissed her.

He proceeded to kiss her until she had to hold on for dear life just to keep from disintegrating into a heap on the sand.

“Nicholas,” she said, when he took a breath.

It was only a brief breath—not enough for her to really get in any decent conversation.

And then she found that the thought of conversation wasn’t really all that interesting.

She was certain a good chunk of eternity had passed before he finally lifted his head and looked down at her. She had expected to see stormy gray eyes. Instead, she saw eyes that were as clear as an undisturbed Scottish loch reflecting gray clouds above. She was somewhat vindicated to notice, however, that his breathing was not all that steady.

“Give me the fortnight,” he said.

“Pretend that I don’t have things to tell you?” she whispered.

“Pretend that you’ve told me already and I don’t care.”

“They’re pretty big things.”

“Are you wed?”

She shook her head. “I’m not.”

“Do you secretly despise me?”

She managed a miserable half laugh. “You know I don’t.”

“Then anything else can be resolved,” he said. “Anything.”

She felt her eyes beginning to burn again. “Why? Why do you want this?”

“Because I . . .” He paused and shook his head. He pulled her close again and simply held her. “Because I just do,” he said quietly against her hair. “Please, Jennifer.”

“But—”

He kissed her again.

It was in the back of her mind to tell him that kissing wasn’t a very good way to fix their problems, but then she found that she couldn’t think very well. As time passed, she began to think that perhaps she wasn’t able to think at all.

All right, so she’d never dated anyone long enough, or found them unjerky enough, to get past making out. She had the feeling Nicholas had, and probably more than once. She completely understood how a woman being kissed by him might seriously consider a whole lot more than kissing.

When she thought she simply couldn’t stand up anymore, he stopped ravaging her mouth and simply kissed her softly, sweetly. He kissed her eyelids, her cheeks, the tip of her nose. When she could pry her eyes open, she looked at him.

“Wow,” she whispered.

“Wow,” he repeated with a smile. “A Gaelic expression I don’t know?”

“Something like that.”

“Is it favorable?”

“Oh, yes.”

He smiled, a half quirking of his mouth that was so charming she couldn’t help but reach up and touch it. He kissed her fingers, then bent his head and kissed her again.

Jennifer hung on for dear life.

When he lifted his head the next time, his breathing was a little ragged. “Were you saying something?” he asked.

“I think I was trying to remind you that I don’t fling,” she said faintly.

“I’m not asking you to fling.”

“Then what are you asking me to do?”

He looked at her so seriously for such a long time, she thought he wouldn’t answer her. Then he took a deep breath.

“I’m asking you to stay with me and see if this life might suit you.”

Her knees did buckle then. The next thing she knew, he had swept her up in his arms. She put her arms around his neck in self-defense.

“I can walk.”

“Then you’d best carry me, for I’m not at all sure I can.”

She looked at him, then laughed. “Sure.”

He let her slip down to the ground, then put his arm around her shoulders. “I feel better when you smile. Now, help me back, would you?”

She hesitated, then put her arm around his waist and walked slowly with him back down the beach toward where they’d left their lunch. They walked all the way back to Artane, then past it before she dared look up at him.

“Are you certain about all this?” she asked quietly.

“Are you yet unconvinced that I am?”

She looked out over the sea for quite some time before she turned back to him. “Did you mean what you said?” She paused. “About me staying . . .”

“Aye,” he said quietly, “I did.”

She let out a shaky breath and tried not to let her heart run away with her. “Then I suppose I can’t be anything but convinced, can I?”

“Nay,” he said gently, turning her to him and putting his arms around her. “I daresay you cannot.”

She wanted to believe him. She had the feeling things would change when he learned all her secrets, but there was no point in trying to convince him of that. She stood there in his embrace, rested her head against his shoulder, and considered.

Maybe she was looking at it the wrong way. Maybe she should take the few blissful days she would have in his company and burn them into her memory. It might be what helped her survive all the hours in her future she was certain would be spent making expensive medieval gowns for evil stepsister types.

She pulled back and smiled up at him. “All right,” she said, taking a deep breath. “I’m convinced.”

He smiled, looking rather relieved. “Finally.” He took her hand. “Let’s find lunch. I daresay we need it.”

She walked with him back down the beach, then caught sight of their picnic hamper being overrun by the locusts he called brothers.

“Damn it,” she said under her breath.

He laughed. “What did you say?”

“You heard me. Look at them. There won’t be anything left by the time we get there.”

He smiled down at her. “I had no idea you were so fierce.”

“It’s lunch,” she said.

“I agree. And though I suppose we’ll need to endure them now, later we’ll seek privacy in my mother’s solar.”

“Do we dare?”

He lifted one eyebrow archly. “I have self-control, even if you don’t.”

She pursed her lips. “I’d throw something at you, but I don’t want to shock your brothers.”

He only laughed at her and pulled her down the beach with him.

They stopped next to the blanket. Montgomery, John, and Miles were helping themselves to lunch.

“So,” Miles said, through a mouthful of pie, “that’s how it is.”

Nicholas reached out and swatted their hands away from the basket. “Aye, that is how it is and it was so exhausting that we need food. Leave ours be and go find your own.”

Montgomery lifted up a basket from behind him. “We brought our own, but it doesn’t look as good as yours.”

Nicholas nudged his brothers out of his way with his foot, then sat down and pulled Jennifer down to sit between his legs. He removed the good food and put it on the far side of him.

“We didn’t ask for company,” he said.

“Chaperons,” Miles said, nosing about in the other basket with a frown. “You need us, I daresay.”

Jennifer suspected that he might just be right about that. They didn’t seem to mind, though, that Nicholas stroked her hair, or stole kisses, or had his arms around her continually. Miles watched, with a very small smile playing around his mouth.

Jennifer smiled back at him. “What?”

He shrugged. “It pleases me to see my brother happy.”

“Is he happy?”

“Aye,” Miles said, throwing a quick smile at Nicholas. “I daresay he is.”

Jennifer toyed with her wine. “Surely you’ve seen him happy before.”

“Never like this,” Miles said.

She was surprised. “Really? Doesn’t he usually bring ladies to the shore and kiss them silly?”

“Kiss them silly, indeed,” Nicholas snorted.

Jennifer smiled at Miles. “Well?”

“Never,” Miles said, shaking his head slowly.

Jennifer settled herself more securely in Nicholas’s arms, then leaned her head against his shoulder and stroked his arm idly. “So, how does he usually woo, then?”

“He woos quickly,” Miles said. “One dance, one look, one quirking of his little finger and then the lady is won.”

Somehow, she could believe it. “And the next day?”

“Oh,” Miles said with one raised eyebrow, “I imagine a few have lasted until the next day.”

“Miles,” Nicholas growled.

“I asked,” Jennifer pointed out, tipping her head back briefly to smile at him.

“Aye, and I should growl at you for it as well. Must we discuss this?”

“We’ll turn to your other flaws later,” Miles said. “This is entertainment enough for the moment. Now, Jennifer, you must understand that my brother in not a monk.”

“Miles!” Nicholas exclaimed.

“But, aside from a mistress or two whom he simply would not wed—”

“Miles, if you do not cease—” Nicholas warned.

“I daresay he’s never truly been in love.”

“Interesting,” Jennifer said. And it was. Was it possible that Nicholas was serious about her?

She hardly dared believe it.

She looked casually at Miles. “So, tell me more about these past wooings of his. You say they never lasted longer than a day?”

“None that I know of.”

“And if he were to woo for, say, a fortnight?”

“Unprecedented,” Miles said.

“Interesting,” Jennifer said.

“Significant,” Miles said, leaning forward and waggling his brows. “Have you heard of him planning such a thing?”

Jennifer only smiled and shrugged. “That’s my secret, I suppose.”

Nicholas’s arms tightened around her and Jennifer smiled to herself. Perhaps there were secrets that were best left unrevealed. Besides, there was something very pleasant about having a secret with Nicholas for a change. She squeezed his arm briefly and felt him kiss her hair in return. Miles moved on to cataloging his brother’s faults, and all was well with the world.

In spite of the uncertainty of her future, which she steadfastly refused to think about while the sun was shining.

Nicholas covered one of her hands with his. “Perhaps Miles will blather on yet awhile,” he whispered against her ear. “The weather is lovely and I could sit here quite happily for the rest of the afternoon.”

“I heard that,” Miles said, “but I’ll ignore it. Now, as I was saying—”

Jennifer smiled as Miles went on about something she only half listened to. The only thing she could truly concentrate on was the feeling of Nicholas’s arms around her, his fingers trailing now and again through her hair, the way he pulled her back occasionally to kiss her.

She was definitely in trouble.

S he sat, several hours later, in Gwennelyn de Piaget’s solar with the boys sprawled in various chairs around her and Nicholas sitting across from her, playing the lute. He sang beautiful songs and she knitted happily with the four double-pointed needles he’d made her on a pair of socks that would look ridiculous with everything he owned. Maybe he could wear them to bed.

She glanced up periodically, but not too often. Every time she did, the sizzling looks he gave her made her drop stitches.

Very dangerous.

Finally, Montgomery’s yawns became too great to ignore. Nicholas set his lute in another chair and pointed toward the door.

“Montgomery, go to bed. John, bank the fire. Miles, begone. I’ll walk Jennifer to her chamber.”

“I think not,” Miles said, rising and stretching.

Nicholas frowned. “What?”

Miles folded his arms over his chest. “Kiss her here, brother, chastely, then allow me the pleasure of seeing her safely to her chamber.”

Nicholas stood up slowly and turned to face his brother. Jennifer wondered if they would come to blows. She set her socks aside and thought briefly about rescuing Nicholas’s lute. Miles was every bit as tall as Nicholas, but not quite so broad. She supposed that wouldn’t matter enough to prevent them from engaging fully in some sort of brawl.

“I don’t think you should do this,” she put in quickly. “It’s your mother’s solar, after all. I can’t imagine she’ll be pleased if her chairs are broken.”

Miles reached out and put a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Nick, she is a maid.”

Jennifer wondered how he knew that, but maybe there was a medieval radar of sorts that all these guys had.

“Here,” Miles said, releasing his brother, “let me give you a name to cool your ardor.”

“Who?” Nicholas grumbled.

“Geoffrey of Fenwyck.”

Nicholas flinched. He dragged his hand through his hair, looked heavenward, then turned and pulled Jennifer to her feet.

“He has it aright.”

“Anne’s father?” she asked. “What does he have to do with anything?”

“That is a very long, sordid tale which I’ll tell you at another time,” Miles said. “For now, I daresay you should leave your lord happily—or unhappily—and prudently here. Kiss her hand, Nick, and let her go.”

Jennifer looked at Nicholas, then smiled and held out her hand. He took it, then he lifted it and kissed the back of it.

Then he turned it over and kissed her palm.

Miles groaned and turned his back on them. “I said chastely.”

“That was chastely,” Nicholas said.

“The saints preserve us all,” Miles said.

Nicholas smiled, then bent his head and kissed her very sweetly. And chastely.

“Good night, my lady,” he said. “Until tomorrow.”

“The saints preserve me ,” she managed.

He looked like he was going to haul her into his arms, but he took a deep breath, took a step backward, and made her a bow.

“Chastely, damn it,” he said with a scowl.

Miles took her hand and pulled her toward the door. “You’ll see each other in the morning. Jennifer, I would suggest you bolt your door, but my brother does have his honor. Let’s hurry, whilst he still has it.”

“Jennifer.”

She turned and looked at Nicholas. “Aye, my lord?”

“Are you still convinced?”

She knew exactly what he was talking about. She nodded with a faint smile. “Aye, my lord. I am.”

He only looked at her gravely, his hands clasped behind his back.

Miles pulled her out into the passageway, then tucked her arm under his. He walked with her until they had reached Isabelle’s bedroom, then he stopped and smiled.

“I’m happy for you,” he said simply.

She smiled. She supposed it hadn’t trembled all that much. “I’m nervous.”

He considered her by torchlight for a moment or two, then nodded. “I can understand that. All I can tell you is that Nicholas has never looked so happy and so miserable at the same time.”

“Miserable?”

“A man like Nicholas does not give his heart lightly. I daresay he has never given his heart before.” He shrugged. “Perhaps he fears it will not be enough.”

And with that cryptic statement, he fetched a candle out of her room, lit it, then handed it back to her and bid her a good night.

Jennifer went inside and shut the door behind her.

Cryptic indeed.

A soft knock in the middle of the night woke her. She lit a candle in the embers of Isabelle’s fireplace and went to the door in her borrowed nightgown that was several inches too short.

“Who is it?”

“Nicholas.”

She unbolted the door. He was standing there, fully dressed with a cloak around his shoulders. Jennifer looked at him in surprise.

“Trouble?”

He shook his head. “A suddenly urgent errand.” He paused. “I had thought to leave it for another se’nnight, but I think it best to be about it today. I will return by evening.”

“Are you all right?”

He smiled, took her candle in one hand, and pulled her into his embrace with the other. “I am well,” he said softly. “I’m sorry to wake you, but I didn’t want to leave without bidding you farewell.”

“Farewell?”

“For the day, of course,” he said dryly. He smiled and kissed her softly. “Miles will keep you safe until I return.” He handed her the candle and stepped back. “Until tonight, my lady.”

“My lord,” she said softly, then closed the door.

She walked back over to the bed, set the candle down on the nightstand, and looked at it, sure she now wouldn’t sleep a wink. Then she leaned over, blew out the candle and, to her surprise, felt herself falling into a peaceful, contented sleep.

Farewell . . . for the day.

Tomorrow be damned; she would take him at his word.

After all, how long could a single day last?